Mental hangover/word vomit…
I’m just some punk kid with an empty soul, looking for answers, something to fill me up. A social deviant, on the verge of self-destruction, reaching out for adventure, reaching out to the world, “Take me race! Take me, oh human race. Show me your beauty, and where you have none, put me through your ugliness.”
I don’t want work, I want passion. No safety, no remorse. Just real life. I want to break some glass, maybe even live in my car for a week or two, while I scour the lands for a venue to experience the sights and sounds of my rebel family.
PUNK ROCK!
Voices lost to the night, barely crawling back in recovery the next morning.
See beyond the trees, past the highways and landscapes and into the dreary holes in the wall, where the tattooed, pierced, mutilated and modified populate. Away from the cleanly. Away from the suits and ties. A home for the lost and deceived.
The world makes me tick and even though I’ve come to despise so much of it, in my heart, I know it’s the one for me. I’ll marry my life, procreate and breed ideas, maybe even abort a few and I’ll end it all happily with tattoos to tell my story, so they can mount my rotting carcass on a wall somewhere for all of you to see.
I’m living without pretense. Living for myself.
Maybe some of you can relate.”
